Ever Thankful
by AilciA
Summary: I am not going to explain how our two pirates got here, nor where they are going - this fic is just a moment in the grand scheme of things where the affection Jack feels for Will is displayed when no one else is awake. Slash - but more like seeing beauty


A/N: Hope you like this - it's something I wrote after seeing the film *yet* again the other day. I haven't read anything like this yet, and so am hoping it's not percieved as me jumping onto any ol' bandwagon or anything. This is one of the few films I think I am able to write slash for - anything else and I seem to have some sort of mental block and it doesn't feel right to me. But Pirates is perfectly fine for some reason! Maybe it's the two gorgeous fellas helping me along there...  
  
As I said in the summary, I am not going to explain how our two pirates got here, nor where they're going - it is just a timeless moment in the grand scheme of things, where the affection Jack feels for Will is displayed when no one else is awake.  
  
Anyway, hope you think it's sweet and relevant (and not merely an Orlando/Johnny obsessive-fest as so many other slash fics seem to be... though I will own up to that being the reason I wrote this in the first place!), and will review at the end so I know whether to pack my boots away when it comes to writing this sort of thing or not - you see, the last slash story I wrote got no reviews - [beat]... all together, now... *awwww* (and, also, hint hint).  
  
Smoothly done, no?  
  
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Captain Jack Sparrow lay on his side calmly, bordering on the hazy line between slumber and thoughts, dark eyes - now free of their kohl outlinings- fixed upon the still form of the young whelp who slept next to him, his face half-burrowed in the Jack's chest.  
  
It was almost as though the pirate didn't want to go to sleep for fear of missing out on a moment of appreciation - as for the love of his rum, he simply couldn't take his attention off of Will's sleeping form. His brown eyes kept trailing by their own will down the long, elegant line of the blacksmith's neck, and over the soft brown curls that fell forward, partially covering this magnificent body part; they kept searching the peaceful face with it's high cheekbones and fine features - odd that such an aristocratic face should be born of a baker and a pirate. But it had always been the same with William, Will's father... if one had disregarded his clothes, hair and the general feeling of electricity in air all about him, one coud have sworn he was a lord of some sort.  
  
Jack's eyes kept fixing themselves upon Will's closed ones, the dark lashes gracing his cheek fluttering ever so slightly as he dreamt, and the pirate found himself trying to force them open by sheer will of his mind. But the beautiful face stayed still, and though that irritated Jack slightly, it also made him happy.  
  
The young blacksmith was slightly further down in the bed than Jack, who had propped himself up on some pillows earlier, and had his head turned into Jack's chest comfortably - it was a postion Will nearly always unconsciously moved into during the night's length, he always nestled into the warmth of the pirate's lean body against his, and seemed to find comfort in Jack's heartbeat, which was surprisingly normal considering the lifestyle he led. Jack had on arm draped lazily over the boy's slender shoulder, and was running one twitching hand through Will's long, dark curls as he thought of things, ever thankful that he was able to.  
  
This boy was something entirely new to Jack - Will was his best friend and closest companion, firstmate and a competent and jolly sailor by all accounts - but he was something else, too. Something he held within his good soul had opened Jack's heart easily without his permission - had made the pirate experience things he had not known were even feelings until then. Jack no longer felt dead, as he had so unkowingly felt before - he may have been half brain-cooked by heat, a drunkard and a scoundrel on all fronts, passionate in just about anything he did, but he had never had any feelings rivaling the ones he now felt after Will had unlocked him. His life had been half-full - an almost absurd claim considering the things he'd seen and done.  
  
He really should have seen from the beginning that he hadn't kept the boy around as merely leverage in his plan of winning the Pearl back - he could have let Barbossa's cronies kill him at any given point - but he hadn't, he had given Will the opertune moment, but at that point he had not known why. Now he knew. It was because somehow he unconsciously knew this boy was to be his saviour. This whelp of a boy was his life now, dearer to him than the Pearl could ever be, and he relished that fact - the fact that he could care for someone human so deeply. And all because of this boy.  
  
Will sighed gently in his sleep, causing Jack's attention to return to him. He leaned back slightly, against the soothing pitch and roll of the ship, and tucked his bearded chin into his neck and pulled a face to get a better look at the blacksmith, squinting his tired eyes to focus them. Will's brow was marred by a slight frown as he breathed in. When the beads, bones and trinkets adorning Jack's ebony hair jingled slightly on each other as the pirate moved, Will frowned furthur and burrowed his face instinctively furthur into the pirate's strong chest at once, fearing he might break contact from him, and shifted himself closer in his sleep, bringing a hand from his own chest down to rest gently upon the fleshy piece of body between Jack's lean hip and ribs.  
  
Jack smiled fondly at this childlike act, moustache twitiching - anyone else, any strumpet or pretty-boy, doing this in his bed and he would have percieved this closeness to be unforgiveable clinginess, and would have fought desperately to escape the nets he felt were closing in all around him, and fled. But not this time: no, not this boy. Will had been messed about a lot as a child - his father leaving him without apparent reason one day and never then returning, his mother dying of pneumonia shortly after, a runaway, a near drowning, a pretty horrendous orphanage, the toils of Mr. J. Brown's drunkeness everyday and his occaisional flying fists and never, *ever* getting the credit he truly deserved for his magnificent work - and Jack was his soul mate, someone who'd had experiences near to his, someone he knew would never leave, someone he could finally feel safe with. So the boy could be forgiven for holding onto something good when he found it.  
  
Especially if the something good liked being held onto.  
  
The pirate *did* like this comforting closeness they shared; the warmth of Will's slow breath against the hollow at the base of his neck; the feel of their legs entwined under the blankets; the tickle of soft hair against his bearded chin; the simple touch of of one hand resting upon his side. He'd never had this... ever. Hell, *he* was going to hold on for this, with all his strength.  
  
His life was the best it had ever been - he had his Pearl, his freedom, he had a loyal crew who did not judge in any way, he had his rum, and he had Will, which was by far the best deal of all - and he was ever thankful of that. And though they were on a constant run from Norrington's frequent, and quite daredevil, missions to capture them, and rid the seas of Captain Jack Sparrow once and for all, they were living the life of kings. It was a pirate's life for all of them - the best life going.  
  
Will shifted again, restless and energetic even in sleep, onto his back but still amazingly close to Jack, and moved one long leg from the undercover- tangle and away to one side. Jack, eyes catching by pure coincidence upon the body revealed as Will's white shirt rode up, grinned. He could see an expanse of toned, flat stomach, the simple lines of two lean hips jutting out above the tops of the blacksmith's trousers, the taught muscles present in the thin young man's figure very visible indeed. Will had absolutely no idea what he did to Jack, no idea just how much the pirate's once-cold heart bloomed with every caress or soft word. The boy's head was still turned into Jack's chest, and Sparrow raised one twitching hand hesitantly, and held it over the smooth skin of Will's cheek.  
  
He paused for a time, as if undecided whether he was worthy enough to do such a thing, but then dared to gently stroke the top of the blacksmith's tanned cheek with his thumb and forfinger, loving and relishing the fact that he was able to do so. The touch was like fire to his heart, and a tingling sensation spread all across his body with this one act. Will leaned into the touch unconsciously, and a smile flickered across his sleeping features as the hand on Jack's waist tightened slightly. The whelp then sank further into the dream he was in with a deep, sighing breath that made his strong chest rise, and the hairs on Jack's neck prickle as the breath touched his neck. He laid his hand flat against the boy's warm cheek, and shifted furthur down into the bed beside him, so that they were facing each other properly.  
  
Jack spent some time after that just looking at the sleeping lad - not really thinking about anything, just appreciating what he had, what he'd gained. He grinned, and his golden teeth caught the candlelight... it was this whelp that had landed him with everything, Will was the reason he had gained everything he had wanted, whether he knew it or not, and the pirate was ever thankful that the boy had come into his life. With this thought, Jack's heart swelled with such gratitude, such thankfulness that he had been blessed with this gift, this boy, this blacksmith, that his dark eyes sparkled suddenly with unexpected moisture.  
  
The pirate leaned forward, and placed a soft kiss of thanks upon Will's sleeping mouth, caressing the warm, slack lips with his own, trying to hold himself back from deepening it. He noted that his boy tasted of rum, or maybe that was himself? Either way, he liked the way Will tasted, and couldn't resist stealing another tender moment for his own benefit, even toying momentarily with the idea of waking the lad up, for he so wished for the blacksmith's strong embrace - but that just wouldn't be fair. So he contented to watch his Will, ever thankful that he was able to do so.  
  
This whelp who had changed Jack Sparrow's life forever so unwittingly - and Jack was ever thankful that he had.  
  
His dark eyes drifted slowly shut, and until the very last moment, when his ebony eyelashes touched his high, tanned cheekbones, he had Will's peaceful form in his gaze and had a soft smile upon his face.  
  
End.  
  
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What did you think? Please review and I'll find out! 


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